Tag: saving seeds

It was time to put these babies in the ground before they started climbing all over each other.

The seeds came from last year’s parade pickles, which ended up being very good producers. I used the same fermenting technique that you use with tomatoes. The germination rate was high, maybe 75%. Last year I didn’t start them until mid may, so these are a good bit earlier. The only concern I have with them being so early is that the pollinators may not be out in force when they’re ready for them.

I’m very pleased with this setup. The plants will be strung to the low part of the fence to train them upward. When building the trench I found the soil to be soft and holding moisture, (also quite toad occupied). The plants should do well here. This was okra’s home last year and those plants went crazy.

Scout harrassing an unearthed toad

We currently have 32 cucumber plants. Last year 30 was the plan, but at transplant time, we only had about 18. I was still able to do a good bit of pickling, but not as much as I would have liked. (On the other hand, I still have a few jars of pickled okra and a gallon bag of frozen pieces so I’d be ok with a few less of those.)

And here are the extra hybrids that I couldn’t bear to thin because they germinated so well and because they’re Park’s Celebrity for goodness sakes!

Not Okra

(The okra was yellow from the indoor lighting and I have a million more seeds so I yanked them to make room for these beauties.)

And here are my extra Russian Queens because I just found out that they’re pretty rare here in the states, so I couldn’t kill them either.

So yeah. I have a lot of frigging baby tomatoes and really don’t know what I’m going to do with them.

But what I do know is that I want to build a large heirloom collection, one that I can turn into seeds or plants for sale.

So I tell this to my dad (Pappy, as my kids call him). And he tells me, “You didn’t separate anything so you have a lot of crossbreeding going on and you won’t know what it is anyway.”

But tomatoes pollinate themselves. It’s like masturbation pollination. They don’t need bees like the squash and cukes do. They don’t accidentally cross, right? You have to work for a hybrid, yeah? I started googling, hoping that he was wrong —

Well fuck.

What am I going to do now? I have 5 varieties of tomatoes that I think are heirloom, but are probably really not. A couple that I first grew in 2016 and then again in 2017. Seeds that I was so proud of. Seeds that would be even better this year because they’re used to my soil and my growing habits. Strong healthy seeds grown from and for this place. My seeds.

My adventure down the somewhat depressing rabbit hole taught me that the varieties I’ve bought this year can be kept true through careful bagging of the blossoms. (What a pain in the ass!) But I’m not sure what to do about the others. Be surprised this year I guess. Bag those blossoms anyway? Yeah probably.

Well at least now I found the courage to thin out my other “heirlooms”.

R.I.P. “German Johnson” & “Black Krim”

My varieties (italics means they’re probably/possibly corrupted):

Black Krim 2016 & 2017

German Johnson 2017

Golden Sunburst 2016

Russian Queen 2017

Red Currant 2016 & 2017

Warren’s Yellow Cherry 2018

Chocolate Cherry 2018

Pineapple 2018

Big Rainbow 2018

Kellogg’s Breakfast 2018

Costoluto Genovese 2018

I have a random cherry tomato that volunteered itself in my compost last spring and I saved those seeds too. I call those Generosity Cherries because along with them being volunteers, they are large and prolific and germinated much sooner than all the others. I wonder if they may be a parent of the grocery store vine tomatoes.

I guess the worst case scenario is that I now have six funky mystery tomatoes I can play with and name.

Heirloom tomato seeds. It’s early in the season yet to be planning for next spring, but my Djeena golden plant is dead. I got exactly 3 tomatoes, all of which were first chewed by a big fat horn worm, before her stem rotted for some reason.

3 Djeena Lees

Here is one of them all ripe and pretty (and slightly wilted) on the right:

Maybe it’s because of the scarcity, but the Golden Girl tasted so tart and delicious. And it wasn’t just me. Gordon and Eddie thought she was yummy too.

So I saved her. I think. Unless I let her seeds germinate by fermenting too long. But I think they’re ok. Nice and fuzzy like the random seeds I bought in the rainbow packet originally.